Although I can't claim to be a huge Metallica fan, I recognize their superior blues-rock musicianship on their early albums and own a number of their CD's. Far away from the mosh pit, I also sat in the nosebleed section for their 1991 concert in Phoenix, which incidentally happened to be the historic first event ever held at America West Arena. Most objective music aficionados can hardly deny the talent of the top metal band in history, but even people who don't think they could stand listening to hard core head banging tunes will need to re-evaluate when given an opportunity to view the remarkable documentary, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster. Due to his Napster clashes, drummer Lars Ulrich may remain the "most hated guy in rock music" and lead singer James Hetfield is certainly no saint, but these two founding members of Metallica are certainly not monsters—they are human beings struggling heroically with their own demons.

As Ulich claims in Rolling Stone, "This is not a film about Metallica—it's a film about relationships." Actually the film documents much more than that. Shooting some 1600 hours of footage over a two-and a half year period, documentary filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky have culled 135 minutes that illustrate their creative process and reveal entirely different people than Metallica's onstage persona. Coming from the same school of documentary filmmakers that produced D.A. Pennebaker's legendary behind the scenes look at Bob Dylan in Don't Look Back, Berlinger and Sinofsky have raised the bar even higher with subjects who dare to risk exposing their raw psyches, warts and all. Dylan's coolness in the 60's meant just being himself and using his genius to mess with people's heads while occasionally playing for the camera/audience, but the 21st century requires even more. In an era where real men are obliged to show a sensitive side, Metallica's middle-aged icons risk introspection and struggle with personal demons and enter group therapy to save the group from disintegration. The fact that they allow the filmmakers in on these sessions is unprecedented!

Following in the “cinema direct” footsteps of Robert Drew, Berlinger and Sinofsky put themselves into position to film whatever happened when Metallica prepares to record its first album after five years in 2001. The gig came about through their previous work on Paradise Lost, which included Metallica songs on the soundtrack that the group graciously granted to use free of charge (Lars Ulich is a film buff, who was jazzed about their songs enhancing their quality documentaries). Naturally Elektra envisioned a promotional documentary for their upcoming St. Anger album, but the filmmakers made it plain that that wasn't how they worked. The band was completely in agreement to the point that Metallica put up the money itself to finance the project. Even better was Metallica's attitude about the film since they took a hands-off approach, trusting filmmakers' artistic judgment.

That wasn't an easy choice since Berlinger and Sinofsky fortuitously had selected a tension filled transitional period for the legendary metal band. Despite being the most successful heavy metal band in history with 6 Grammys and the highest grossing concert draw of the decade, Metallica was at low ebb. On hiatus from both touring and recording, bass player Jason Newsted had just left the group to devote more time to his side project Echo Brain, and the group was under fire from fans and critics charging that the group had grown too commercial and stale. Striving to return to its roots, producer and temporary bass player Bob Rock rented San Francisco's Presidio as a new studio in the hopes that this would revive the group's creativity only to find that interpersonal relationships between the members continued to plague the group. Enter therapist/performance enhancement coach Phil Towie—Rock's stroke of genius move that saves the group from self-destruction and provides the impetus for some of the most incredible scenes ever captured in a rock music documentary.

Previous Metallica concert videos/documentaries have only scratched the surface because that's all the group members were able to supply. Both Ulrich and Hetfield had far too many unresolved issues to open up to each other—a huge obstacle when two headstrong creative artists continually viciously lunge at each other. One of the film's telling moments shows low key, self-described "egoless" lead guitarist Kirk Hammett literally slap his forehead in frustration after one of Ulrich's not so subtle attacks on Hetfield. More than one band member slams the door behind him during the film, and often it seems like the open wounds are irreparable.

When Hetfield leaves for eight months of rehab, much is in doubt—the Presidio recording studio is abandoned, the album unfinished, the group's make-up in limbo, a restless Ulrich pissing off fans with his anti-Napster lawsuit. The future of the documentary itself is questioned when Hetfield returns, and the filmmakers find that they have to include some shots of themselves and their boom microphone because they become part of the story. Even from the onset, Hetfield is obviously uncomfortable with the ubiquitous cameras tracking their recording and therapy sessions, so he brings up the issue about whether to continue the film when he returns and we are privy to the decision process and much more.

There are so many fine raw pictures of the group everyone can relish whether you're a Metallica fan or not. Among them: Hetfield's rebellious vehicle and subsequent encounter with one of San Francisco's finest, Ulrich actively attempting to practice therapy speak to see if he is "hearing Hetfield correctly," failed recording sessions that the group terms as too "stock," mellow Hammett slamming the door after Ulrich suggests they forego a standard guitar solo, an incredible therapeutic encounter between former lead guitarist Dave Mustaine and Ulrich, an uncomfortable confrontation with their therapist when they want to break their dependency, the auditions of a veritable who's who of metal bassists, and Robert Trujillo's unbridled joy at being selected as the new bass player (with instant icon status and a million dollar advance, who can blame him).

Although the group initially demonstrates an awareness of the camera, and makes it a direct issue later in the film, most of the time Berlinger and Sinofsky are able to practice complete anonymity and remain invisible, allowing us to be like the proverbial "fly on the wall" in a truly historic rock music documentary. Not only does Metallica: Some Kind of Monster clearly track the creative process behind a studio album, but it takes us through the painfully intimate process of struggling artists attempting to come to terms with their fathers, their childhood issues, addictions, attempts to balance career and family, and seeking ways to improve their communication with their "second" family to transform a dysfunctional Metallica into a unified and continuing force. From their remarkable openness to share these difficult years on celluloid, their odds of success and chances for gaining added appreciation are high.

This is the best film I saw at the 2004 Sundance Film Festival, and it ranks among the very best rock music documentaries ever produced. With compelling subject matter, inventive cinematography, and seamless editing that transforms the massive footage into a strong narrative, this film must not be overlooked. And that's not even considering some really strong music to boot!